


Advent: Broadway

by FyrMaiden



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Sentient AI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former Broadway actor Kurt Hummel is collecting his new assistance 'bot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent: Broadway

Advent: Broadway  
Words: ~1k  
Warnings: Unspecified life-changing injury (Kurt). AI.

Kurt stares at his new BLaINe - the name the Health Institute gave to their creation, designed to assist with Brain, Lungs, and Intuitive Needs - unit through a window at the institute, answering questions absently as he takes it in. The machine in front of him is beautiful - sleek and compact compared to the previous generation, the new silicone compound that’s being trialed for the skin stretching more real than ever across its titanium frame a warm tan instead of the sickly white of the first wave ‘bots. 

This latest one - his second, the one he had when he was 27 finally reaching the end of its serviceable life and virtually a museum piece at almost twenty years old - is a fifth generation BLaINe, and Kurt can’t wait for the girl asking him questions to get to the last page so that they can switch him on and Kurt can watch the kaleidoscope whirl of its eyes as it processes its surroundings and he can start programming it - him - to be the companion he has come to need.

Kurt moves his chair away from the window, turns it slowly to face the woman and her tablet. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. “Do you understand the terms and conditions?” she asks, and he nods.

“I understand,” he says. She smiles brightly and returns her gaze to the tablet.

“And you understand that if at any time we receive a report that the machine is in jeopardy, we do reserve the right to remove it from you?”

 _Him_ , Kurt thinks. _Not it, him_. “Yes,” he says. She presses her screen and then looks at Kurt again. 

“We offer an optional package on our top range models,” she says. “Would you be interested in learning more about the Adult Services your new BLaINe can offer?”

Kurt smiles and maintains eye contact with the girl, who doesn’t so much as blush. “No,” he says evenly. “Not at this point.”

“Cool,” she says, and taps her screen again. “You can bring it in for an upgrade at any time, if you change your mind.” Kurt nods and she scans through a few paragraphs, pausing for him to say yes once or twice. Then she holds the tablet out to him just as he begins to turn away. 

“I’m going to need you to sign for it,” she says. “Then we can turn it on for you. We’ve taken memory data from your old unit, so this one should feel quite similar.” 

Kurt turns his chair back to the window. He doesn’t look like his old BLaINe, who had been beautiful in his own way. This one could probably pass, if no one got too close. He finds himself wondering how his skin feels. The girl moves in front of him and holds out the tablet, and Kurt takes it from her, scribbles his name with the stylus, and she stares at it for a second. She types her ID number at the bottom and then, as she puts the tablet in standby, she breaks character.

“I had a friend,” she says. “In high school. She was obsessed with you, followed your whole career. You’re the reason she wants to be a _big star_.” The way she says the last two words make Kurt think that she’s probably quoting her friend. That the phrase should have jazz hands.

“It’s been a long time since I was on a stage,” he says. “Not since his accident.” 

She nods sadly, her bangs falling into her eyes. She sweeps them aside again and walks toward the door, swiping it open with her ID. “Yes,” she says. “She was devastated. She sent flowers to the hospital, and made a donation in your name to the Institute when she learned you’d need one of the Units to maintain your independence.”

Kurt finds himself oddly touched. “What was her name?” he asks, maneuvering himself through the door and in front of the BLaINe unit that he’ll be taking home. That an Institute ambulance will help him transport back to his 8th floor apartment. Up close, the BLaINe unit’s inhumanity is still barely detectable. He reaches out and brushes its arm, and is surprised to find the skin warm to the touch, tactile and inviting. He’s anxious to see it function, to see how it fares when the planes of its face are mobile, when it learns to smile. When it learns to laugh. His old BLaINe had a beautiful laugh, once it mastered the sound.

“Rachel Berry,” the girl is saying as she follows him, the door closing behind her with a soft click. She stops in front of the BLaINe - or just Blaine, because Kurt had felt it was easier than finding another name, to just use the one he came with after a while, and knows that he will do the same with this one - and inserts a microdisc into the virtually invisible port behind his ear.

“I saw her,” he says. “In a revival of Funny Girl, a couple of years after my accident. She was excellent.”

The girl turns her head to look at him. “You didn’t,” she says, and then, “We all took a trip to see her. She took us back stage. It was amazing. She was amazing.”

 _Is amazing_ , Kurt thinks, knows she’s still working. But the disc in the BLaINe stops loading, and the girl refocuses on the machine. She reaches out and presses the button under his jaw, and then takes a step back as it starts its boot process. They’ll know he’s ready when his eyes open.

Kurt sits patiently, his hands folded in his lap, watching Blaine slowly come alive. His fingers twitch first, and then his chest rises, as if he breathes in, and then - slowly, slowly - his eyelids start to rise.

The gold of his eyes is beautiful, pure amber, like someone learned to bottle the sun, and he looks around slowly before finding Kurt. 

“Hello, Kurt,” he says, his voice smooth. He reaches out a hand to shake Kurt’s, and Kurt reaches back. He should have worn his skeleton, in retrospect, so that he could stand to hug Blaine. As if sensing it, the ‘bot leans down and wraps his arms around Kurt’s body before drawing back.

“Hello, Blaine,” Kurt says, and smiles at him. This BLaINe doesn’t know how to smile yet, but he will. And Kurt knows already that it will be worth waiting for.


End file.
